


Sunrise

by KinoGlowWorm



Series: Transference [3]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Capheus can get Sun talking - Freeform, Capheus gives really good backrubs - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feelings, Flashbacks, post-Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KinoGlowWorm/pseuds/KinoGlowWorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sun has doubled her workouts while in solitary and it's making Capheus sore, so he decides to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know whether to say I'm Sorry or You're Welcome about this piece. Probably both.
> 
> Here's where I admit that this whole series began in a conversation about the difficulties of a particular plot point which I chose to interpret as a dare. I have not yet reached that point, and it may yet turn out to be a Really Bad Idea. We'll see about that.
> 
> As with How Do You Take Your Tea? this is a flashback with a little bit of framing that keeps it in the world of Transfer, but is designed to stand on its own, more or less, if that's what you want from it.

Chapter 3  
Kenya Airways Flight 887, dep. Bangkok 1:55 am, arr. Nairobi 6:45 am

It was so late when Sun boarded her connecting flight that it was quiet soon after boarding. Sun halfway melted into her seat, leaving parts of her body at angles she knew she would regret later. It was amazing to her how much a day doing nothing could exhaust you. And not the gratifying kind of exhaustion from an intense workout, but the dull drag and ache that came from sitting, cramped and still, that came from waiting and from worrying. 

The seat next to her on this flight was empty, which was an additional relief to her. She watched the network of lights that was Bangkok below her fall away, then turned to find Nomi in the seat next to her.

“Hey,” she sighed, holding a mug of tea in one hand, “I talked with Jae-min again a little while ago. He said you’re finally on the news in Korea.”

Sun’s heart sank a little bit. It was an inevitable, though not essential, part of the plan to break her out of prison. In some ways, it was something of a relief to know how the story would come out. The news breaking like this, after she was successfully out of the country on a fake American passport was the best case scenario. 

“But hey,” Nomi offered brightly, “I guess they have no leads outside of you never arriving at the prison in Cheonan.” They sat there together, quietly. Nomi offered her cup to Sun, who cradled the mug between both hands and looked out the window as she took a sip, rolling it around in her mouth. Roasted green tea with rice, one of her favorite tastes of home. She had gotten Nomi hooked after recommending it walking the aisles with her at the Korean supermarket near her home in San Francisco. She took another sip, and then handed the mug back.

“Should I stick around?” She asked.

“I think I might try to sleep,” she responded drily, but not entirely in earnest.

“It’s been a really, really long day,” Nomi agreed emphatically, “Okay, then, safe travels.”

The seat beside her was only empty for a moment before Capheus was there, the lightweight plaid blanket wrapped around his shoulders as it often was when he watched movies as he fell asleep. He looked half-asleep as he reached his arm out to wrap her into the blanket against him. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder as she yawned and let herself rest.

\----------------------------------------

The skin on Sun’s arms glistened with sweat in the dank half-light of her bare cell as her body slid through well-practiced forms at a glacial pace along with the slow, controlled rhythm of her breath. Her training had been one consistent thing in her life since before her mother passed, though its shape had changed over the years, and she was not about to let prison get in the way of that. In fact, this was her second workout of the day.

She had already run herself through a grueling barrage of push ups, squats, and faster-moving forms. She turned her attention to awareness of her breath as her muscles sang with use, life burning in her thighs, her arms, her core. She felt her breath, deep, slow and controlled, reaching into these parts of her body. Her leg raised high at the knee, then reached slowly out to fall silently ahead of her, as her carefully-controlled center of balance shifted. As her leg fell, her hand extended out in front of her, palm forward, pushing force against weightlessness. She closed the form and sat down, cross-legged on the floor, asking nothing more of her muscles than to hold her still and upright. She continued to breathe in the same slow, deliberate manner, focusing the warmth of her breath into her center, trying to keep her mind from overstepping into all the possible distractions. 

Her cluster never left her alone for too long, which let her appreciate some of the time truly by herself. Without them, she suspected that solitary confinement would chip away at even her carefully cultivated stillness. It wasn’t so much the isolation as the confinement. Sun had been long-practiced in spending time by herself since she had been a child, to the point where she craved a certain amount of it. The change of scenery offered by visiting across their connection, anything besides the bleary, second-hand fluorescent light on concrete that surrounded her, was almost more important than their company. 

The muscles in her legs protested as she unfolded them in front of her and stretched forward over them, resting her hands on her ankles as she cycled through rolling each shoulder forward and shrugging it back, the muscles in her back lengthening in response as she tried to ward off the tightness that had been following her recently redoubled workouts.

When she sat up, her back came to rest against the cool, hard concrete. It almost felt pleasant through the sweat-bled fabric of her light uniform.

“With how much you are working out these days, I think I may start developing Jean-Claude’s physique as well,” Capheus grinned from where he sat beside her, canting his head to one side, then the other, stretching his neck muscles, “I’m certainly feeling the effects of the exercise when I wake up.” Sun’s head fell back against the wall and rolled over to look at him, and then she was sitting in a seat on his bus as he swept out dust and trash from under the empty seats.

“It’s always quiet this time of day,” Capheus shrugged as he swept the last of the detritus out the open door, then tucked the broom away into a corner. The air was hotter here than in her cell, but the midafternoon sun baked it drier and it bowed through the open windows on a light breeze, taking with it the film of sweat that had stayed on her skin for lack of anywhere else to go. 

“I have an idea that might keep us both from waking up so sore tomorrow,” he stated as he sat on the brightly-upholstered seat across the aisle from her, facing in her direction. 

“Turn around,” he directed, leaning forward and patting her back on the shoulder closest to him, “I used to do this for my mother after she would come home from working long days when we first came to Nairobi.” Sun turned her body as much as she could to let her back face him. He sat up straight on the edge of his seat, reaching forward eagerly with both hands as he began kneading her shoulders firmly. Her spine arched up perfectly straight from her casual slump in the seat. “After she got sick, she needed this because she was sore from lack of movement.” 

Sun’s gaze drifted out the window to the cluster of other small buses and the crush of colorfully-painted cinderblock buildings behind. She considered asking how long ago his mother had gotten sick, but thought better of it as she sensed him trying to redirect the conversation.

“Tell me, how did you come have the spirit of Jean-Claude?” he asked playfully, shifting gears after the dead air. He saw the reflection of her smirk in the window and, when she didn’t answer, he continued, “No, really, how did you become such a good fighter?”

“I began learning taekwondo when I was seven,” Sun recalled after a brief silence, “Once my brother was old enough to begin as well.” Capheus’s hands squeezed firmly down her arms to her elbows, then started working his thumbs in small circles down her back in parallel lines framing her spine, his broad hands spanning out to the edges of her back for leverage.

“Taekwondo had meant a lot to my mother as a child,” she explained thoughtfully, “She even won some competitions.”

“So your mother was a master fighter, too? Brilliant!” He burst out, his hands slipping from her back and grabbing her shoulders with excitement. She turned to face him.

“It is not so simple as that,” she said, dropping her eyes from contact with his and facing out the window again, “When she was 15 and beginning high school, she stopped competing, stopped studying it completely.”

“What happened?” His hands fell away into his lap but his eyes didn’t fall from her face as he searched for more information, seeing how much this thought troubled her.

“Her parents told her that her priority at that point should be her schoolwork, though I think they were concerned how it would appear for her as a woman still fighting into adulthood. My uncle, her brother, was eight years younger, and kept competing through his time at the university.”

“So she just stopped altogether then?” He still looked crestfallen at the thought.

“She began practicing tai chi once she was at university. It’s a much slower style, more focused towards meditation than combat,” she explained as Capheus resumed his work on her back, his hands settling on her waist as his thumbs reached in to work deep into her lower back.

“She kept up with that practice until she was too weak,” Sun trailed off into pensive silence, focusing her eyes far in the distance again, where a lone dog was digging earnestly at the edge of a building. His hands came to rest lightly on her shoulders again, and he squeezed gently, this time with a different sort of therapeutic intent.

There was a long pause. Capheus began working his knuckles along the lines of her shoulderblades, and reached one hand around to steady her. As his hand came to rest just below her collarbone, his skin met hers right above the where the collar of her shirt fastened. The sensation caught her off guard. Her heartbeat stutter-stepped in a way that surprised her and pulses of warmth traveled from that tiny corner of skin down her bones, through her stomach and collected deep in her core as his hand pressed against her. Sun’s eyes slid closed, her head fell forward, and she brought her attention back to her breath, trying to keep it deep and slow and even as she did when she was trying to bring her heart rate down from the high-intensity heart of her workout.

Capheus’s hands disappeared from her body for a moment and she felt almost weightless, as if she wasn’t sure where the edges of her body were without the pressure of his hands. He brought his hands back up to her shoulders and began rolling his hands through again. Sun’s eyes slid open as she drew a breath in deeply and raised her head. She looked softly forward into the distance again.

“But you never felt any pressure to stop?”

“After my mother was gone, as long as I was doing well in my studies, my father didn’t care what I did,” she said, with a slight, sneering disdain. Capheus paused again, dropping his hands to rest on his thighs as he looked up at her, sitting tall and proud, the edge of her profile just barely visible from where he sat. 

She turned to face him, but couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with him with the ball of warmth still glowing low in her belly, casting her eyes instead towards the front of the bus, settling on the steering wheel.

“May I?” Capheus extended his hand, palm open. She brought her eyes back towards his hands, then up to his face, also soft and open, not quite sure what he was asking. His face broke open into a broad smile, his dark eyes flashing playfully. He reached down, his hand casually covering her wrist. “Okay?” He asked again, searching her eyes for a reaction. 

She nodded and he lifted her arm gently, bringing both hands to her wrist with his thumbs lined up next to each other on top of her arm, compressing as he followed his thumbs up towards her elbow. His hands were warm, strong and weathered, soft like worn leather. 

The pulsing deep inside her grew, throbbing down, lower within her and reaching up to flicker against her stomach. Again, deep, slow breaths helped her to calm her body’s reaction, but she worried he could read it on her face or feel it across their connection. This was not a bodily response she was used to sharing with those close to her. She was also still getting used to allowing people to be close to her the way he or the rest of her cluster were, and was a little surprised as to how much the mere contact of his skin with hers affected her. She usually tried to keep these things compartmentalized in her life. But there was something distinctly less clinical in this than the massages she was used to receiving, for as much as the movements weren’t dissimilar.

“But you did not only study taekwondo?” He asked, the question rising in the middle and falling back down. He worked back down that arm, lowering it gently back to her leg and starting the same process on the other arm.

“I started studying kickboxing when I was at university,” she explained thoughtfully, “There were a number of things I did early on there to find out if there was anything I could do that my father would notice. I’m never sure if my first few matches were part of that or not.”

“I know all the ones after weren’t,” she snorted out in a single sardonic laugh, and then her face fell a little as she thought about her last meeting with her father. The memory of it fell inside of her, weight in her stomach, cold lead above the fire.

Capheus paused, sandwiching her hand between his as his arms rested on his lap. She still wasn’t sure what of her fluttering arousal he had felt, if any - if he had any clue, he hadn’t let on - but it was clear that he understood where it was her thoughts had taken her then. He was next to her in the hard, gray visiting room as her father vowed to make things right. In the same moment he was standing right behind her in that same room while she leapt across the table at her brother as he tried to deflect any semblance of guilt in their father’s death. Her hand tightened between his and then relaxed as she slumped forward, her hands resting on her lap across the aisle from him, staring at her bare feet on the dark, textured floor. 

 

It was he who took the next audibly deep breath as he sat at a lack for words of sympathy. Instead, he leaned his head forward so that his forehead met hers, pressing gently together. They took a few deep breaths in silence like that, holding their weight on their arms. 

“It is getting late where you are,” Capheus broke their silence and found them back in her cell, sitting cross-legged, facing each other, her hand still wrapped in both of his.

“It is,” Sun agreed quietly, “I have no way of tracking the exact time, but has been several hours since my dinner was delivered.”

“Do you want me to stay here a little longer?” he asked somberly, the ordinary brightness of his face still shaded. Sun considered the question. The short answer was yes. The long answer was convoluted beyond what she could easily track right then. It probably also amounted to yes, but in a way she wasn’t entirely comfortable admitting.

“If you have time.”

“It’s no trouble,” he shrugged, “It will not get busy again for at least another half hour.”

His hands released hers. “Why don’t you lie down and I can finish with your back,” he offered. As much as this had left her with an awkward collection of emotional reactions, leaving those aside, he had effectively untangled a number of hardened spots along her back. She lay down the thin cushion provided her and lay face down on it, arms loose at her sides. He knelt beside her and began plying her back with long strokes, as if smoothing out its surface.

“After my father was gone, I began having terrible nightmares. I was so afraid that I didn’t want to go to sleep,” he related as his hands swept slowly along her back, “My mother would rub my back and tell me stories until I could fall asleep.”

“I thought it was your father who told stories,” Sun clarified.

“Oh, he told so many wonderful stories,” Capheus remembered warmly, “I am still not sure which were the ones he had learned from others and which were the ones he made up. Not entirely. But my mother had her stories as well. We all have our stories. Some of us simply have more of them ready.”

Sun considered this for a moment.

“Someone must have told you stories,” he said surely.

“My mother did,” she relayed thoughtfully, after a brief pause, “Most nights she would read books to me when I was going to bed. I liked looking at the pictures. The only time I remember her telling stories rather than reading them was when we visited her family’s summer house up in Yeongdeok, where her father had grown up.”

Sun brought her arms up to rest under her chin, turning her face back to where it was facing Capheus’s khaki-clad knees, “We didn’t visit there often, but when we did, we always packed a picnic on one day and hiked up to the top of a big hill where we could look out over the sea. She would tell us stories while we walked. I think part of it was to keep my brother from whining too much. He always wanted to get back to his Gameboy.”

The view from the grassy top of the hill down through the light strip of beach out to the blue, the fishing docks farther down the strand, strong wind tangling in her hair, brushing across her bare legs, whispering through the tall grass, the mingling scents of sea brine and sweet grass; the peace of being there with her mother: the memory came flooding back to her in striking detail and Capheus closed his eyes, processing the memory as his own.

“What a beautiful place,” he said, the smell of the sea still lingering in his mind. His hand sat gently, open against the small of her back where it had rested as his attention was fully captured by the shared memory. Sun rolled up onto her side, her arm tucked under her head. His hand dragged along her side as she turned, settling on the slight curve of her hip on the sliver of skin revealed where the shirt and trousers of her prison uniform met, the shirt shifted slightly up from her movement.

Her eyes tracked up squarely to his. His gaze latched onto hers and it was as if that open conduit between them was all that mattered. Sun felt the bittersweetness of the captured moment with her mother on the hilltop reflected back, painted in the colors of Capheus’s memory of his father’s face and with the anxiety inextricably tangled into his vibrantly loyal affection for his own mother. 

Beside this, though, she sensed a parallel to the pulsing heat deep in her core. She hadn’t expected to find that. She had been so concerned with concealing her own body’s desire that it hadn’t occurred to her that it could be mirrored in his. Her breath dragged in with a slightly more ragged intensity as their want fed into each other’s.

His hand slid down the gentle slope of her hip onto her waist, the thin fabric traveling with it, then slowly withdrew. Without breaking contact with her eyes, he shifted his body and then laid down on his side facing her, his legs drawn slightly up, head resting on his arm, their elbows nearly touching, their gently curled forms almost a mirror image. She felt the humid warmth of his breath dance on her face, his scent of butter, earth and fresh cotton a warm breeze over the top of the dull, musty concrete smell of her cell. 

She reached her free hand up to his cheek, her fingers tracing down the line of his jaw, his skin warm and textured with light stubble, her thumb running across his full, soft lips, then down to his chest. His hand followed hers, making contact behind her ear, his fingers sliding up behind her head, through her thick, satiny hair. The hair at the nape of her neck was still damp with sweat from her workout and he smiled thinking of it. He paused to massage that part of her neck before his hand swept to her side, languidly following the contour of her body back to her waist, then to the small of her back, where his fingers traced light circles on the bare skin there.

No longer trying to fight the heat in her body, Sun felt the flush reach out, electrifying the whole of her skin. Her eyes fell shut for a moment as she focused on the feeling of his fingers brushing against her. 

As her eyes opened again, she searched his face for a clue about how to proceed. His eyes hadn’t left her face. Her hand rose to the nape of his neck, sliding along the texture of his close-cropped hair as she urged him closer towards her, raising her face to his. Her lips met his, gently, tentatively at first. Then he leaned into her kiss and her eyes slid shut again as his hand flattened on her back, pushing her in closer to him, their legs tangling as they fumbled to make contact in any way they could.

She pushed gently on his chest and he rolled from his side onto his back, his arm wrapped around her waist as their bodies shifted in a fluid movement. She settled one leg between his, resting half atop him as their mouths continued their breathless exploration. She felt his pulse against her thigh in the hardened bulge beneath it as she ground against him, his hips rising in response to press against her.

It was something of a pleasant novelty to her to be with someone whose first instinct wasn’t immediately to try to pin her as if they were still in the ring. Whatever it was that was happening had begun as a collaboration rather than a challenge, and he seemed perfectly content to let her take the lead in guiding what happened next. 

Her hand came to rest on his stomach, sliding over the soft fabric of his shirt in and down to where his shirt front met just above the button of his trousers, slipping between the two sides of his shirt just under the lowest button and up onto the taut skin of his stomach. He let a little gasp into her mouth as her fingers met his skin there and she grinned into their kiss.

Pulling back slightly, he brought his hand up to stroke her cheek. “You know, you may be almost as beautiful as you are powerful,” he whispered warmly to her. This did not diminish her grin and she flopped forward and laughed into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled back at her, “Was that wrong? I’m new at this. I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

She paused a minute, processing what he had just told her as she picked up her head to look at him, his eyes wide and alive, looking up into hers lovingly. He brushed her hair out of one side her face and tucked it behind her ear.

“Not at all wrong,” she reassured him, her hand slipping out from under his shirt and returning to his face. He kissed her thumb. “I’m just not accustomed to my partners being so kind.”

Sun’s eyes followed her hand as it fell to the collar of his shirt, sliding down to the first button done up. Her eyes flashed up to his, “Okay?” She asked.

“God, yes,” he replied and she smiled gently again as she flicked the button apart, and then the next, working her way down until his shirt fell open. 

Echoing her, he brought the fingertips of his free hand just under hem of her shirt. “Okay?” He asked, looking into her eyes. She nodded, and his broad, firm hand trailed up her back under her blue tunic and the tank top beneath. She pushed herself upright onto her knees, deftly unbuttoning her own shirt as his hands came to both sides of her waist at the hem of her undershirt and ran up both sides of her under the fabric. Sun raised her arms and he continued sliding his hands under the soft layer as high as he could from where he lay. She laughed playfully and shrugged off the blue top, then reached down to pull the white cotton underlayer off in one smooth movement, dropping it carelessly behind her. As she lowered her body back down against his chest, his arms instinctively wrapped around her, drawing her in as they savored the feeling of their skin together. 

They lay there, taking several breaths against each other, feeling their chests expand into one another, before their mouths met again hungrily, their hands skimming the newly exposed edges and angles of their bodies. 

“I just want to hold you as close as possible,” Capheus murmured in her ear, then pulled her into another kiss.

Sun rolled to the side, next to him rather than on top of him, pulling him towards her. Her free hand swept lightly down his back, over the curve of his behind and down his leg to his knee, drawing it up over her, then sliding up along the same path to rest her hand against the smooth, warm skin of his back.

He took this invitation to run his hand along the same path on her body, his hand coming back up to rest at the elastic waist of the prison scrubs.

“Okay?” He asked, the tips of his fingers dipping just below the waistband as he waited for her response. She hummed assent against his neck and his hand disappeared under the fabric. She hummed again into the skin above his collarbone a moment later as his fingers grazed up the inside of her thigh. She felt an ache deep inside her that echoed his desire for closeness. 

Her hand traced down along the line of hair curled tightly against his skin from his navel to the edge of his trousers, her fingers brushing gently above the button, settling with her thumb resting right on it and the rest of her fingertips just inside the waistband behind it.

“Hmm?” She breathed against his ear. 

“I...I...please,” he stuttered in response, his hands rising to frame her waist as he shifted to lie on his back and watch her hand in wonder as she undid the button and pulled down the zipper. As she reached inside and ran her hand along the length of him, he took a sharp breath in and she felt his body ripple inside his skin in a way that reverberated across the connection in her as well. Her eyes rolled and fluttered at the sensation.

As she settled her hand around him into a rhythm, she began to feel him tremble.

“I...don’t...wait...what about you?” He strung together at the outside edge of coherence. Not entirely being able to parse it, she pulled back her hand and his eyes flew open, boring into her with all the heat built up in his body.

“Should I stop?” She asked gently, a little puzzled, resting back on her elbow.

“No, I,” he began, then took a deep breath and started again, “I don’t want this to stop. I don’t know that I want this to stop, ever. But I think I may be, ah,” he broke eye contact shyly, looking at the wall, “Finished soon? And I don’t want to leave you,” he paused, searching for a word, then shaking his head and continuing, “unfinished?”

She smirked, raised her hand to his cheek, then gave him a brief kiss. Then she leaned away from him and, as if to answer his question, pushed the last of her clothing down off her hips, kicking it down off of her bare feet onto the floor. He ran his hand lightly down the front of her in a smooth line, over her beaded nipple, the expanse of her belly, just inside the crest of her hip and down along the edge of the dark triangle where her legs met. She guided him right to the peak of it and his hand drifted along the cleft at her center, first cupping the whole of it, then letting two fingers slide between the lips, tracing the slick line up to the firm bud at the head of it. Sun’s breath drew sharply in at that and, watching her reaction attentively, he began circling that same spot with his fingers.

And now it was Sun’s turn to reach the edge of her reason as her body twitched beneath his hands. The throbbing ache sang desire deep within, urging her that she knew what one thing could make her feel whole in that moment. The only thought holding her back was that she did not have the usual supplies to keep safe. And then, she had a flash of the memory of Kala’s milky-sweet tea and she knew how to move forward.

Her hands grasped at the waist of his open trousers, pulling the cloth down away from him. He lifted his hips, only half thinking about it, as she pulled away from his touch, moving down to pull off his shoes and pull the last pieces of clothing down away from his body.

She crawled back up with one leg on either side of him, until they were again face to face as she knelt, just barely hovering over him, fighting the tension of the magnetic pull that tried to bring their bodies into contact. His hands reached up to rest on her hips.

“Okay?” She asked almost breathlessly as she lined herself up with him.

“Is it safe?” He nearly squeaked, obviously conflicted, his conscious mind fighting the rest of him very hard to even ask the question.

“Nothing physical actually crosses the connection,” she whispered, “Just the sensation of it. It’s the perfect protection.”

He hesitated for a moment, turning the thought over in his head and then letting the wave of desire crash over it as his body arced upwards to meet hers. 

She bridged the short distance between their faces and kissed him, then began slowly pushing herself against him, her eyes not leaving his as she slid onto him at a pleasurably excruciating pace. They shuddered into each other as he reached her full depth. She stayed there a moment, savoring the feeling of fullness, before beginning to roll her hips forward and back against him. He followed her movement and began raising his hips into her thrusts, their rhythm quickly picking up speed. Flickering across their connection, they lost any sense of which body parts belonged to whom as they became one body together, became one glowing beam of light in their mind, burning brighter and brighter.

True to his word, he didn’t last that long just then. But then again, neither did she.

United in that way, she relaxed against his chest and his arms enveloped her again. As they breathed against each other, she felt at peace in a way she couldn’t remember feeling in a very long time, her mind clearer and calmer now than in her regular meditation. She sensed that it was more than just the sex that had brought her to that place. Her body shivered in another wave of pleasure against him.

_“Hey, Capheus, wake up, bro!” Jela smacked his friend on the arm, “Almost time for the evening rush.”_

“I have to go,” he whispered apologetically, his hands running the length of her back gently, “It’s time to go back to work.” He helped her ease off of him, gasping as he slipped out of her, settling her onto her side on the cushion. He slid his trousers on quickly, wondering whether it mattered as he zipped up. He leaned down to kiss her, stroking her hair.

“The things you can do never cease to amaze me,” he said, his voice soft and low, warm but serious. Then Sun was alone again, lying on her side, naked. Most of her sexual encounters ended up with her lying alone, but it was usually by her design and she rarely felt any sort of loss in it. This was different. She longed for him still to be holding her, wrapping her up in the unquestioning warmth of his body.

\----------------------------------------

“I need to go start getting ready to meet you at the airport,” Capheus explained softly as he brushed Sun’s hair out of her face and kissed her temple. She sat upright and rubbed her eyes. 

“What time is it?” She asked blearily, yawning.

“It’s just after five-thirty in the morning,” he said, and then was transfixed by the sight out the window where the edge of the horizon had started to glow a deep orange as the sun began pushing its way into the sky.

They watched together, his arm and the blanket still around her as he craned his head forward for a better view. 

“I must go,” he apologized into her ear, “But it won’t be long now.”


End file.
